confessions · happy · penis

What’s mine is yours, and yours is mine

What’s mine is yours, and yours is mine

When I need you, and when I don’t, what’s mine is yours, and yours is mine

When you notice my low rise socks ride up a heel’s worth of extra fabric, what’s mine is yours, and yours is mine

When you have the feet that fill my day-old dirty socks, when you find yourself across town, across the river, for the night, what’s mine smells less than what’s yours.

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